


Communicate

by Rosella92



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-04 21:11:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15849444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosella92/pseuds/Rosella92
Summary: Greg finds something he's not meant to, and suddenly his world is turned upside down.





	1. Heartache

**Author's Note:**

> Heavy angst, folks. Some might want to wait until it's finished for that reason. But there is more than one part, and I promise a happy ending. xxx

1 - Heartache

Greg wondered why it took him so long to figure it out this time.

Granted, this wasn't Jessica; the clues never became blatant. Missing clothing, frequent showers, constant texting - that wasn't happening here. Greg didn't feel like the one he loved was pulling away. In fact, he'd been under the impression that he was in a beautiful relationship, full of love and trust.

Then the first of September happened. 

Greg had been doing laundry. Later, he'd reflect on how many tearful wives recounted the same story. "Something fell out of his pocket." A receipt, or worse, a personal note. Greg had found both.

The receipt was for La Rosa Nera, an Italian restaurant that was fairly new but already notoriously hard to book. Greg had been promised an intimate dinner there later that month. That alone was a bit odd, and Greg felt a slightly jealous streak of not being able to experience the restaurant with his lover, but shrugged and set it aside. Must have been a work thing - a very expensive one, but work was work. 

It was the note that did him in. 

Greg didn't want to open the folded piece of paper, but noticed his name on it and paused. 

**your Greg. Hopefully he has no idea  
** **cannot wait. I've been looking forward to  
something exceptional for you**

No.

No, no no. This was just...

_Passing notes, like teenagers._

"No," Greg whispered, and stumbled. He placed a hand on the washing machine and carefully lowered himself to sit on the floor, still clutching at the note. 

_It's not like with Jessica, it's not like my marriage._

Greg stared miserably at the still-folded note, thinking of the late night showers he discounted before ("the man likes to be clean"), the frequent meetings and Late working nights ("he's busy"), the recent out of town trips ("it's work"). And now...

Taking a deep breath, Greg began to unfold the note. _Just a misunderstanding, that's all, I'll be laughing at myself in a minute..._

Heart pounding, he began to read.

**  
This is such fun. I cannot remember when we were so devious together - was it university? And look at you now.**

**I know you have reassured me about your Greg. Hopefully he has no idea of what you are up to, you mischievous fellow. As for Sept 13th, I simply cannot wait. I've been looking forward to this.**

**Dinner was delightful. You were positively glowing. I promise to make something exceptional for you the next time we see each other. Happiness looks quite good on you.**

**Always, Finn.**  


An anguished cry filled the room. Greg realized it was him as the note started to blur and shake.

"No. No, no, no." It was too much. Tears fell from his eyes as he began to sob, his chest tightening in pain.

Mycroft was cheating on him.

•••••••••••••••••

Sometime later, after what felt like hours, Greg got up from the floor. He moved through the apartment like a ghost, heading to the bedroom and into the closet.

Past the array of suits and casual shirts. Past the framed pictures of him and Mycroft at John and Sherlock's wedding. John had kept joking about Greg or Mycroft catching the bouquet.

Greg pulled out the larger suitcase - last used on a lengthy trip to Riviera Maya. There might still be sand tucked hidden corners. 

_We made love every night. He called me Dearest, and Darling. He joked about his pale skin, but I worshipped it in our bed, kissing him, touching him. Realized I was more in love with him than I had ever been with anyone. I loved him more than I had ever loved my wife._

A sob tore from his throat, and Greg sank onto the bed. "Can't, I can't." 

He had to leave. He couldn't leave. 

"I love you," Greg whispered.

The room was filled with memories. The first time they'd made love, at first desperately pulling at each other's clothes, then gentle kissing and exploring. Late night reading, him with a book, Mycroft usually looking over world newspapers. Holding each other. Morning sex. Their life, together.

"I can't do this again." Greg began to breathe heavily. "I can't fucking do this again!"

Fucked over, again. Cheated on, again. 

_Breathe, breathe, breathe..._

With shaking hands, Greg reached for his phone in his pocket. He had enough in his account to hold him over for a long time. He'd be okay. Still had a job. Could find another flat. It would all be fine.

A text popped up. **I am on my way home, dearest. I shall be there in approximately ten minutes. xxx - M**

Greg wiped at his tears. He had ten minutes to pack.


	2. Everything

2 - Everything

Greg stared at his suitcase in misery. He had to get packing. He had to leave.

_Shared drinks, then the next night, dinner. "I would very much enjoy your company in my home, Inspector." Lovemaking, passionate, then gentle, sweet. Inside Mycroft, kissing his neck as he moaned. On their sides, Mycroft easing gently into him, murmuring his name. Nights, weekends...moving in._

_Falling in love._

"Would've spent my life with you," Greg muttered. "Fucking hell... Mycroft."

Greg was honest, forgiving, and what did it fucking get him? A broken heart, time and time again. Fuck that. Fuck this Finn arsehole. 

Greg wanted answers. Why. He wanted to know when this fucking started, and where they went, but why - that was what was driving him right now. _Why._

A familiar chime sounded, and the front door opened. "Gregory? I am home, my darling."

Greg's jaw clenched. _Don't you dare, you bastard._

Mycroft made his way through the apartment, his shoes clicking against the hardwood floors. "I have some news...I am afraid I must be out of town this weekend. Unfortunately, a last minute meeting..." His voice trailed off as he came to the bedroom, seeing the suitcase on the bed and Greg staring at him with tears running down his face.

"Gregory," Mycroft gasped. "What has happened?"

Greg stood and tossed the note at him. Mycroft flinched, then read the note. His eyes grew wide. "Oh..."

"Yeah. 'Oh'." Greg snorted and stomped to the drawer, grabbing a handful of his pants and socks and shoving them into suitcase. "You know what, I don't even care who he is. I don't care what he looks like, what he does, or if he has money, I don't fucking care." Greg glared at his lover. "Just tell me why."

"Gregory." Mycroft threw the note on the floor. "No, my darling, it is not..."

"Don't call me that!"

Mycroft flinched. "Gregory...I swear to you, I have never..."

"Save it," Greg muttered, and threw a few casual shirts into the suitcase. 

"I am speaking the truth! Never, not once in our relationship have I wanted anyone else." Mycroft's eyes were wide. He was shaking. "I can explain."

Greg rubbed his eyes. A horrible headache was forming. "I don't think I can hear this right now. The fucking lies and excuses. Just...tell me something. Do you even really love me?"

A sharp gasp made him look up. Mycroft looked devastated, tears forming in his eyes. "How...how on earth can you ask me such a question?"

"Just answer it," Greg mumbled.

"Gregory." Mycroft's voice broke, and they were both crying. "Gregory, I love you. I adore you. I _worship_ you." With shaking hands, he reached into his pocket and took out his phone. "My code is your birth month and day, and the date we...when we first..." Mycroft cleared his throat. "Look. Please. All of it." He held out his phone, his eyes still wide.

"Holy..." Greg stared in astonishment. Mycroft had access to diplomats, presidents, kings and queens. People who ran countries, and the world. Greg knew Mycroft's phone was always off limits, and now he was being offered it. 

"Please," Mycroft whispered, still shaking. "Texts, emails, call records. I will retrieve deleted voicemails. I will give you access to all my personal communications. I will give you anything you wish. Please."

Greg shook his head. "I can't..."

"You must. Please." Tears ran down Mycroft's face. "I cannot lose you over a misunderstanding. I am in love with you."

Slowly, Greg reached out and took the phone. He kept his eyes on his lover. "Tell me who he is. Why do you have that note?"

Mycroft quickly retrieved the note from the floor. "Finnegan Williams is a colleague from university. He is heterosexual. I contacted him for a personal project. I must have left my notes on the table when visiting the washroom...He has a habit of writing and leaving notes for friends, waitstaff...his wife."

"Personal project?"

Mycroft carefully turned the paper over. "Our anniversary approaches. Three years, six months from now," he whispered. "I...I thought you would enjoy a custom gift. Finnegan is a horologist - a watchmaker. His wife, Tabitha, is also a jeweler. She is the one who wanted to meet at the restaurant. Her cousin is the owner. I confess I was using the connection to secure a table for us in the near future."

Greg scanned the back of the paper. It was a flurry of notes in Mycroft's handwriting ( **leather strap, silver, 18x16? pin buckle, tourbillon** ), along with drawings of watches and clocks. Something in French...two sentences. Scribbles as the bottom: **T, U, V**. A lime was drawn through T and V.

Greg breathed deeply. "And he just...left you a note like this?"

"The man has odd habits, which I always attributed to his artistry." Mycroft swallowed hard. "Do you..."

"Wait." Greg sighed and placed Mycroft's phone on the bed. "I can't live like this. Knowing you might be..."

"You still doubt my fidelity." Mycroft seemed to straighten himself. Very well." He picked up his phone and spoke into it. "Play all correspondence with Finnegan Williams. Include deleted items."

_"One moment."_ The recorded voice paused after a chime. _"Three conversations found."_

A man's voice suddenly played. "Mycroft Holmes! It was wonderful to hear from you the other day. Dinner tomorrow, and Tabitha is eager to make your acquaintance. She's bringing some designs as well. Happy for you, you brilliant fellow."

Another chime, then: "Dinner was brilliant. I am quite pleased to know Sherlock has found love as well. Domestic bliss suits you, Mr. Holmes. The wife and I look forward to meeting your Gregory on the thirteenth. Cheers, Finn."

The recorded voice came back. _"One text message conversation found, since deleted."_ Two different male recorded voices read the conversation.

**\- Mycroft Holmes, I presume. Good evening!**

**Good evening, Finnegan. I am sending you my latest design notes on Gregory's gift.**

**\- I look forward to receiving them. Tabitha is rather taken with your love story. She has filled her journal with designs.**

**Excellent.**

**\- I do promise not to embarrass you with tales from university when we dine together.**

**That would be most appreciated.**

_"End of correspondence."_

Greg stared at the phone. He was about to speak when the voice continued. _"Proceed with calling Finnegan Williams?"_

"Yes," Mycroft answered quickly, looking Greg in the eye.

The phone rang, and Greg could only stare back at Mycroft in heartbreak. The note...a surprise. It was all...?

"Mycroft Holmes?" The familiar voice was posh, and a bit playful. "Have you decided on a design for Gregory's watch? I am quite looking forward to this project. My last client was simply dreadful. He insisted on removing the bevel himself! Ridiculous man."

Mycroft coughed. "Apologies, Finnegan. I thought I'd come to a conclusion on the design, but further reflection is necessary."

"Oh, the fretting of lovers. I quite understand. I can only say that gifting a fellow jeweler with an engagement ring is quite exhausting. You are fortunate."

Mycroft smiled sadly at his lover. "Incredibly so."

Greg buried his face in his hands, shaking like a leaf. 

"Speaking of loved ones, Tabitha is waving at me. I must go. We shall see you on the thirteenth, my friend."

"Yes, good evening." Mycroft pressed a button on the phone and sighed shakily. "Gregory."

"Christ." Greg wiped his eyes. "M'sorry. Saw the note. Scared..." He sobbed. "Please don't hate me..."

"My dearest, my darling." His lover rushed to Greg and gathered him in his arms. "My beautiful lover. My everything. It is all right."

Greg clutched to him and sobbed. "It's not! I know you love me. I love you, more than I loved anyone. I need you. I'm so sorry, I love you, I love you, Mycroft..."

Mycroft hushed him, crying himself as he kissed Greg's lips, cheeks, and forehead. "My darling, my dearest love, my everything...I would give you anything. Everything. You are my love."

"Fucked up," Greg whispered. "I'm a mess."

"You had your heart broken, my love, and I have been working away from home lately...and that damned note..."

"S'my fault..."

"No, Gregory...shhh, love." Gently Mycroft placed the suitcase on the floor and guided Greg into bed, wrapping his arms around him. He stroked his hair and looked into his eyes, concern etched in his features. "Shhh, my darling. It's all right. Settle, my love."

Greg sniffed and shivered. "Can you forgive me?"

"Yes, my darling...hush, my love, we are all right." A gentle kiss to his forehead. "My Gregory."

Greg sniffed as Mycroft rubbed his back. "How can you forgive me? I'm an idiot."

"My dearest, that horrible woman to whom you were married caused the strife, not you or I. Our relationship is different, and I should have realized my attempts at secrecy were potentially damaging." Mycroft gently kissed him. "I will cancel my meeting this weekend."

Greg shook his head. "No, baby, you don't have to..."

"I do. I have not made the man I love my focus. That ends now." Mycroft kissed him again and sighed. "You must promise...if you ever feel slighted, or suspicious, that you speak to me. Do not leave me, please, my love...I cannot bear to live without you." A small sob escaped the elder Holmes. "Please, my Gregory, promise me that you will not leave me."

"I swear it." Greg placed his hand over Mycroft's heart and smiled, suddenly realizing what the letters at the bottom of the note meant. "For the rest of my life, Mycroft Holmes." 

_Ask me, _Greg thought as they held each other through the night. _Ask me, my love. I will say yes.___

____

•••••••••••••••••

Six months later, Greg was the proud owner of a custom luxury Finnegan Williams time piece, with a black leather strap and a gorgeous silver accents. On the back was an engraving in French, by Madame de Staël:

_**  
L’amour est l’emblème de l’éternité, il confond toute la notion de temps, efface toute la mémoire d’un commencement, toute la crainte d’une extrémité.** _

_Love is the emblem of eternity; it confounds all notion of time, effaces all memory of a beginning, all fear of an end.  
_

Two months after that, as they lay in bed, Mycroft Holmes asked Greg Lestrade a question, presented with an original Tabitha Williams design, silver band, size U, engraved with a quote from the poet Rosemonde Gérard:

_**Car, vois-tu, chaque jour je t’aime davantage, aujourd’hui plus qu’hier et bien moins que demain.** _

_For, you see, each day I love you more, today more than yesterday and less than tomorrow._

Greg said yes.


End file.
